


Never Let Go

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe -Titanic, Artist!Stiles, Ashen Romance | Auspistice, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bottom!Stiles, F/M, Jack!Stiles, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Minor Character Death, Rose!Derek, Titanic fic, Top!Derek, Tragedy, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-04 02:29:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek/Stiles Titanic AU. “Derek has never told the story of Stiles Stilinski on the Titanic to anyone in the world, but when his granddaughter finds an old artifact from those days, Derek decides that now is as good time to do so…” Crappy summary wow it’s better I swear. COMPLETE.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Let Go

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn’t find a TW Titanic AU so I am making one myself! For those of you who have been looking for one too and like Sterek, welcome aboard! If not to the Sterek, though, I apologize. Anyway, Derek is Rose because he’s FAR more regal and proper sounding/looking than Stiles is, and Stiles is Jack because seriously they are so similar come on. The fic switches back and forth between Derek and Stiles by “OoOoOoO”, and “XxX” is just a break within perspective. Oh and Stiles calls Derek “wolfhound” for reasons. Also…what the hell did they call penises in 1912? I’m saying cock because it’s better than dick and oh gosh the word manhood has lately made me cringe. Just go with it.

** Never Let Go **

   Derek opens his eyes slowly at the sound of footsteps, and soon the face of his only granddaughter peeks into the room.

   “Grandpa?” Cora whispers. “Are you up?”

   Derek smiles at her in the darkness of the room. “I’m awake, but I’m nowhere near up.”

   She laughs as she comes into the room and turns the light on. “Good, because I found something of yours up in the attic.” She sits down lightly beside him and holds up a—

   Derek’s eyes widen. It’s a necklace with a golden chain and, at the end, a heart-shaped diamond the color of blood.

   Cora smiles. “You recognize it? It’s _gorgeous_. Where’d you get it?”

   Derek holds his hand out for it, pulling it closer to his old eyes. The gold of the chain is still shimmering, and the red of the heart still sparkles in the light. “I didn’t know I still had this,” he whispers.

   Cora frowns, now. “Are you okay, grandpa?”

   Derek gives her a warm smile. “Do you want to hear a story, Cora?” He’s never told the story of Stiles Stilinski on the Titanic to anyone in the world, but he decides that now is a good time to do so.

   She grins and nods, pulling her legs up onto the bed to get comfortable.

   Derek takes a deep breath and plunges in…

* * *

  _DEREK…_

   Derek stares up at the Ship of Dreams with a dull look, wishing he could just get back into his car and never go home to America at all.

   “Oh, darling, don’t look at it like that,” Jennifer Blake, his fiancé, tells him as he absentmindedly helps her out of the car. “Is nothing beautiful enough for you?”

   Derek looks down at her, seeing that her dress as excessive as always. She’s in her favorite color of lavender. Derek hates lavender. “Nothing is beautiful next to you, my dear.”

   She scoffs. “You’re far too good to me, Derek. Go help your sister now, would you? Kali and I will take care of the bags.”

   Derek lets her go without a word, hoping she doesn’t find his wedding present for her. The blood red diamond carved into a heart at the end of a golden chain belonged to Derek’s mother, and she told him to give it to whoever he was to be wed to. Both the marriage and the diamond mean nothing to Derek; he wants to be rid of them both. One item at a time, though, he supposes. He loved his mother of course, he just hates thinking about her death, and the diamond reminds him off it--and now that the diamond is a part of the marriage, that reminds him of it too.

   Laura gives him a smile as he helps her out of the car. “Good show, brother,” she whispers. “Every day you’re making her believe that you want this as much as I do.”

   Derek gives her a dark look. “Open your mouth any wider and you’re going to lose more than the marriage, Laura.”

   She scoffs. “Derek, _please_ ,” she says louder. “I would _never_ tell her about the wedding present!”

   Jennifer returns at that, eyes bright. “I wouldn’t let her anyway, darling. You know how much I love surprises.”

   Derek gives her a warm smile from the very depths of his blackened soul. “Of course I know, my dear. Now, what’s say we get inside?”

   “A lovely idea,” she says, linking their arms together. “The sun is warm, but I miss the heat of a flame.”

   Derek hates fire.

**OoOoOoO**

_STILES…_

   Stiles whistles innocently to himself as he moves towards the rails on the side of the ship that are just below the first class deck, the friend he came with onto this gigantic ship distracting the nearby sailor. He grins as he swings up the railing on the side and then manages to hoist himself up to the first class rails and over the edge. He winks at the men and women who are looking at him with appalled faces, but before they can actually say anything he bends back over and gives a shrill whistle to get his friends (Scott McCall, who he met barely a month ago) and the sailor’s attention.

   “Hey, you!” the sailor yells, pointing up at him. “You’re not supposed to be up there!”

   Stiles grins at him, putting both feet up on one of the rungs of the rails. “Well then you’re not doing a very good job at keeping me from it, are you?” he calls down to him.

   When he pulls out a whistle, Stiles laughs and gives a mock salute before running down the deck. He doesn’t actually have a reason for being up here except that he can be. He loves testing (and breaking) the rules.

   “Whoops!” he says, quick turning down a corridor when he sees a bundle of other seamen coming towards him. On the way, though, he manages to run smack into one of the first class gentlemen. “Oh, my apologies!” he says, looking first at the dark haired beauty beside him before… He stares a little. The man before him has jade green eyes, dark hair, and clean-shaven face. Stiles has always thought that shaving makes for a boring man, but what else would you expect from a man as regal looking as this one? “Terribly sorry!” he says again, stepping around him. “I’ll have to watch where I’m going more. Do carry on!”

   He takes off back down the corridor, looking for a pair of stairs. If he can just get back down to his room without being seen then he’ll be in the clear.

   When he finally manages it, Scott is already there and waiting for him.

   “You’re crazy, Stiles!” he says loudly, patting him hard on the back. “The things you do for the fun of it are _crazy_!” He grins, swinging up to sit on his top bunk. “What’s it like up there?”

   Stiles laughs and swings up to sit beside him. “It’s gorgeous up there, Scott. Inlaid gold and intricate wooden designs…” He flits a wrist. “The first class people aren’t too bad either.”

   Scott laughs in turn, elbowing him lightly. “You’re the devil’s incarnate, Stiles. Come on, let’s get back up to our deck. Maybe you can find a few people to draw for.”

   Stiles smiles, hopping down to the floor so he can grab up his portfolio full of papers and pencils. He loves his drawings. His mother used to do the same, but he never actually met her. She died in childbirth—which is why Stiles is carrying on her legacy. Everybody loves a portrait artist.

**XxX**

   Stiles lets out a deep breath, watching the white fog curl up into the night air. He loves it here. He loves this ship and its people and the sheer size of every little thing. The size of the ship, of the sky, and especially of the ocean. All of it is white and blue, blending together in a splendorous display of power.

   He pulls in a drag of his cigarette. It’s freezing out here, but he likes it. Maybe he’ll become a captain after this… Some sort of seaman, ready to take on the waters and its crashing waves. He’ll sketch the passengers and clouds in the sky and he can draw parts of the ship and maybe sell them to the papers. That’d be fun.

   He stretches a little, trying to makes shapes in the stars. Maybe he’ll—

   Expensive shoes suddenly clack loudly against the wood of the deck, and he sits up to see a man sprinting passed the benches that Stiles is lying on like crazy. He’s in an expensive looking suit to match those shoes, which means he’s from first class. Stiles gets up and goes after him fast, watching as the man leans up against the very back rails of the entire ship.

   He reaches up a hand and wipes at his eyes. After that he just stands there for a few moments, staring out over the crashing waters behind them and its dark horizon…

   Stiles’ eyes widen when he sees one of the man’s shoes step up on a rung of the rails, and then he’s moving forward as if in a dream, getting about two yardsfrom where the man now has both feet up.

   “Whoa there, wolfhound,” Stiles says.

   The man turns his head in a flash, eyes like liquid pools of agonizing flames even though they’re the color of jade. Stiles realizes with a start that it’s the same man he saw before, with the dark hair and clean shaven face. Stiles wonders if he remembers his face, too…

   “You can’t do it that way,” Stiles says, walking over to the rails a few feet away from the man. He’s not on the other side yet, thank god. “You’ll either hit the blades and get chopped into shark bait or freeze up like those cavemen they find around.” He pulls in a drag, watching the suited man carefully. “It’d be _far_ less painful with a gun.”

   The man manages to square his shoulders defiantly even though there are still droplets of water under his eyes. “I take what I can get.”

   “Well, I’m sorry to say this, but I’m pretty sure you’re not going to get _anything_ by taking your own life.”

   The man looks back out to the waters and wraps both arms around the pole beside him. “Freedom comes to mind.”

   Stiles scoffs, inching closer the slightest bit. If he has to grab the man he will. “You are free. Just because you’re wearing three layers and a tie doesn’t make any difference. Take off your shoes and dance in your rich boy socks; it’s fun and easy. Death, though.” He looks out at the waters too, puffing out smoke that’s instantly carried away. “Death isn’t fun. Easy sometimes, like when you’re old and go in a bed…but it’s never fun.” He looks up at the man. He’s just staring at him, the fire in his eyes almost died away completely. “Here, watch this.” He moves even closer and then tosses his smoke over the back edge. “Do you see that now?”

   The man frowns and looks after it. “No.”

   “Exactly. You’d be just like that smoke there, wolfhound; a red flame put out by a spray of blue.”

   He stares at Stiles with curious eyes for a split second before frowning. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

   Stiles grins, leaning backwards against the rails. “I didn’t want to use ‘sir’ or ‘mister’ because I figured a spoiled rich boy like you is downright sick and tired of being spoiled, rich, _and_ called a boy.” He holds his hand out. “Come on, I’ll help you down. Those shoes look hard to move in.”

   The man takes his hand tentatively, stepping the two steps back from the single rung up. He drops it almost immediately, putting his hands behind his back. “Thank you,” he says quietly.

   Stiles grins, looking up at him. He’s not too much taller, but he still seems so much bigger. “Anytime, wolfhound.”

   He gives an annoyed look. “My name is Derek Hale.”

   “Ooh, simple, I like it. I’m Lucius Stilinski.”

   Mr. Derek Hale breathes the tiniest of snorts. “That’s a bit of a mouthful, Mr. Stilinski.”

   “Which is why people just call me Stiles.” He holds his hand out. “It’s been a pleasure.”

   Derek stares at it a moment before shaking it lightly. “Yes,” he says. “A...pleasure.”

   Stiles drops his hand, still grinning. “Next time you wanna do that,” he says, “do me a favor and find a friend, would you? I’m not always gonna be out here.”

   Derek averts his eyes. “Yes, a friend. I’ll find one.”

   “Atta boy,” he says, patting Derek’s shoulder and ignoring the almost appalled look he gets. “I’ll see you around, wolfhound.” And he walks away without another word, confident that Derek Hale won’t get anywhere near those rails again.

**OoOoOoO**

_DEREK…_

   Derek sighs, leaning against the railing that rests above the lower class decks. The sun is up and bright and warm, but as usual, Derek doesn’t feel it. He’s far too melancholy to feel the heat of the sun. Third class people are milling about, sitting and standing and laughing and…

   Derek frowns, looking closer at a group of three. There’s one man with dark hair and an uneven jaw line leaning against the rails, another just standing there with astoundingly curly hair and a smoke, and beside them both is a short haired man with a portfolio that holds content that Derek can’t make out from here.

   The short haired man notices his staring, and when he starts to wave, Derek realizes that it’s the same Lucius Stilinski that…that Derek met last night. He’s about to give a polite nod back, but Jennifer comes up at that point, wrapping both of her arms around the arm that’s closest to her.

   “You look so beautiful with the wind in your hair, darling.”

   Derek gives her a warm smile. “You only like it because you know I’ll let you brush it later.”

   She smiles brightly. “Possibly.”

   Derek looks away again, keeping in his second sigh. Stilinski is still looking up at him, but Derek can’t make eye contact with Jennifer so close to him. He’ll have to repay the man somehow… A twenty, at the very least. Maybe two. Definitely not a fifty, though. Derek is too sore about still being alive to give away that much. Maybe he’ll simply invite him to dinner tonight. He’ll have to think up some sort of excuse for that, though, so most likely not.

   Jennifer squeezes her hands lightly. “What’s wrong, darling?”

   Derek arches an eyebrow at her. “Does something seem wrong about me?”

   “You seem very distracted, is all. What are you thinking about?”

   Derek gives another smile from the depths of his blackened soul. He only saves those for the very fakest of moments. “Just how much I’d love to take you riding horses along the beach again. I’m not the only one who looks beautiful in the wind—and at least _I_ think you look beautiful without wanting to brush your hair later.”

   She smiles. “You love brushing my hair.”

   He does like that, actually, so he nods. “We’ll have to take turns.”

   “Of course. In any case, I should be off now. Your sister and her new friend have invited me for a stroll.”

   Derek arches an eyebrow again. “Laura’s made a friend?” Laura makes friends even worse than Derek does. Well…somewhat. She’s very good at faking the making of friends, but Derek isn’t even good at that. Stilinski told him to find a friend the next time he finds himself with tears streaming form his eyes, but he wasn’t about to tell him that his amounts of friends amount to a grand total of _zero_.

   “Not a friend,” Jennifer says. “An acquaintance that has a very large amount of money after her husband struck gold. ‘New money’ she calls her. Her name is Engelica, but all her life she’s gone by Erica instead.” She rolls her eyes a little. “She’s very uncouth, but that’s what you get with new money. Anyway, do have fun without me.”

   Derek gives a warm smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

   She hums, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “I expect you to come to me after dinner tonight.”

   Derek’s entire body gives an internal cringe. “I will if the other men allow me to escape from the brandies.”

   She laughs, moving away. “Be sure to tell Gerard that he’s still the master of the universe, now.”

   “Of course.”

   As soon as she’s gone, Derek leans back against the rails and lets out an even deeper sigh than before. Not that Jennifer’s physical company isn’t…exceptional, he just hates the entire idea of it. Nearly everything about her, really. He knows that she’s beautiful and wealthy and the sweetest thing, but he just doesn’t love her. He doesn’t know how he even can or how he ever will…

   He frowns when he sees that Stilinski is waving at him again, his other two friends staring up as well now.

   Derek nods at him, but before he can look away again and decide on a twenty or two, he sees that the man is making his way over until he’s just below him.

   “You look miserable,” he calls up to him.

   “I am in no such mood,” Derek lies down to him.

   Stilinski scoffs. “I suppose not, with a beauty like that. I know your secret through.” He grins. “What are you going to do now? Sulk some more?”

   Derek narrows his eyes slightly. “I will retreat to my bedroom and sleep until dinner, I believe.”

   “How _boring_!” he says. “Why don’t you come down here instead?”

   Derek winces at the idea. “No, I don’t believe I will.”

   "Oh, come on. I’ve got some friends for you to meet and everything. We were just talking about politics! Rich boys like politics, right? And I’m sure we could fake a few big business words too, if we really tried.”

   Derek huffs. “I really shouldn’t.”

   “Of course you shouldn’t. Isn’t that what makes people want to do things the most, though?”

   Derek blinks down at him for a few moments before giving a nod.

   Stilinski grins. “Atta boy.”

   Derek makes his way off his deck and down to the bottom one, weaving his way carefully through the badly dressed people around him.

   “Took you long enough,” Stilinski says, appearing out of nowhere. “Come on, we’re back this way.”

   Derek follows him carefully, stopping when Stiles stops in front of the curly haired man and the one with the uneven jaw.

   “ _This_ ,” he says to his two companions, “is Mr. Derek Hale."

   The uneven jawed man gives a wide grin. “Stiles tells us that he ran smack into you and your fiancé sometime yesterday when he was running along the first deck!”

   Derek frowns before turning to give Stiles a quizzical look. “You were the man that they were running after?”

   Stiles grins even wider than his friend. “The very one!”

   Derek snorts a little. “I should have guessed.”

   “I’m Scott,” his friend says. “Known Stiles for about a month now.” He looks to the curly haired man. “This is Isaac, who we met just here on this monster of a ship.”

   Isaac gives a small smile, though very warm, as he holds his hand out.

   Derek shakes it firmly, followed by Scott’s, and Stiles is holding his out as well, but Derek just rolls his eyes the tiniest bit.

   Stiles laughs. “Not a single funny bone in your entire body, is there?”

   “Doesn’t seem like it,” Scott says, pushing away from where he’s leaning against he rails. “Anyway, time for Isaac an’ I to go pillage a bit. I heard that they’re giving away free food somewhere.”

   Stiles waves goodbye as they go, leaving just him and Derek. “Don’t look so glum, wolfhound,” Stiles says, sitting down on the bench beside him. “You’ve got everything anybody but you would want.” He pats the spot beside him.

   Derek would really rather spit in his face and walk away, but he sits down anyway.

   “What’s she like, then?” he asks. “You fiancé, I mean. She must be great for someone like you to want to marry her.”

   Derek averts his eyes. “Yes, very great.”

   “ _Oh_.”

   Derek looks back at him. “‘Oh’ what?”

    “‘Oh’ you don’t want her at all.” He reaches out and takes Derek’s left hand, inspecting the gold engagement ring that Jennifer bought for him. “Was it arranged?”

   Derek narrow his eyes and yanks his hand away. “I hardly think it proper to admit any secrets to a stranger.”

   “Even a stranger that saved your life?”

   “ _Especially_ not a stranger as such. You’ll hold it against me and try to blackmail me into giving you mon—”

   Stiles snorts, waving at him to stop talking. “I don’t want your money,” he says. “My life is just fine without it. If you won’t talk to me, then, I’ll go first.” He clears his throat. “Have you ever been to California?”

   “I beg your pardon?”

   “California, right smack in the middle of it. That’s where I grew up. I never knew my mother, and my father died in the line of duty when I was fourteen. I’ve mostly been on my own ever since, moving to wherever I feel like it. Washington rains too much and New York is far too crowded. When I was in Paris I—”

   Derek snorts. “You’ve been to _Paris_?”

   Stiles grins. “Let’s just say a lot of my life has been hitching rides in exchange for portraits of either paint or pencil. I started as young as I was able because that’s what my mother did; she painted portraits for all _sorts_ of folks, from first class gentlemen like yourself and down to the third class families that we were a part of. My father left all of her things behind to me so that I could continue on with it. Of course, it didn’t go very well at first, but I’ve practiced since then and now I think I’m just fine. Here, look at these.”

   He holds up his portfolio and hands it to Derek, smiling brightly. Derek blinks at him for a moment before opening it up, ready for inadequate monstrosities that… His eyes widen. Derek has never been a huge art fan, mostly leaving that to Jennifer. She loves Picasso and Monet and all of those, but not Derek. These, though, certainly catch his attention. They’re all drawings of people and animals, so perfect in proportion and detail that Derek can almost see the colors in them even though all of them are in dark pencils.

   “These are beautiful,” Derek says, flipping slowly through the pages. “How did you…” He looks over at the man, still smiling brightly. “You said that you’re a self-taught artist?”

   He nods. “And that I’ve been doing it for _years_ now. It pays enough for two meals a day and the occasional ticket to anywhere else.”

   Derek frowns. “Only two?”

   He shrugs. “I’m poor, so sue me.”

   “Sue you for being poor? I would nev—”

   “It’s a figure of speech, wolfhound.” He scoots closer so that he can reach across the pages. “As I was saying, it was in Paris that I met my favorite models. See this man?”

   Derek looks closely at him, taking in the way that he’s sitting on the bottom bunk of a bunked bed. He’s in third class looking clothes, with both of his shoes unlaced and a strap of his suspenders hanging limply at his side. His hands are down and resting against the bed, his head is tilted slightly to the side, and there’s a cigarette sitting loosely against his lips with smoke curling up.

   “This is as amazing as all of the others,” Derek says softly. “I can practically smell the smoke.”

   Stiles grins. “His name was Matthew Daehler. He was reluctant to pose for me being that he was a rude sort of fellow, but after I promised to give him another of my smokes once he finished that one he agreed to it. And this man here…” He turns the page.

   Derek gives this man a closer look, taking in the…odd position that he’s modeling himself in. It seems that there are multiple vertical bars behind him, and he’s leaning his back against the bars with both hands up and behind his head and his legs spread wide. He’s in just a pair of third class pants, and _both_ his suspender straps are hanging down at his legs. He has no socks on, nor a shirt, revealing a bare, muscular chest.

   “This man was in the same prison cell that Matthew and I were in.”

   Derek gives a little snort, realizing that the bars of those of a _jail cell_. “You were in _prison_ in Paris?”

   “Only for a little while,” Stiles says. “A woman I was drawing decided that I was taking too long and, with what was _definitely_ more money than you’ve got”—(anyone has more money than Derek’s got…)—“managed to get me put into prison for the night. The officer was very apologetic about it, but I told him that it would be fine as long as I was able to keep my sketchbook. This man here,” he says, pointing back at the model, “was named Daniel Mahealani, but everyone called him Danny. Matthew was in prison for assault, but Danny was just in for petty theft. He used to be the maid for one _very_ rich, very well-known Jackson Whittemore, who had moved there with his wife for his wedding present to her.”

   Derek frowns a little. “Whittemore? I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of them.”

   “Maybe not Whittemore, but his wife’s maiden name could. Lydia Martin, perchance?”

   Derek’s eyes widen a little. “The _Boston_ Martin’s?”

   Stiles grins. “The very same.”

   Derek nods in thought, absentmindedly turning the page to—“Oh,” he says, closing it instantly in case anybody is looking.

   Stiles laughs, opening it back up. “Don’t be shy, it’s just art.”

   This model is female, with dark skin and smoky eyes. She’s leaning up against a mirror, but Stiles has opted out any mirrored reflections but for blurry figures in the background.

   “This is Danielle, who didn’t go by Danny, unlike like Daniel. She was a prostitute that I became friends with thanks to a _different_ prostitute…” He turns the page, revealing a light skinned woman holding her hands intricately against her stomach. “Heather had gorgeous hands, and I had trouble with them for a long time, so for the few months that I _was_ in Paris she would let me stay with her and Danielle so that I could practice sketching hands with hers.” He takes the book back, closing it. “And that’s my life, mostly. I’m just a poor, traveling artist that happened to win my ticket onto this beautiful ship by a game of cards.”

   Derek smiles at him. “I know for a fact that Jennifer would love to have a portrait done of her.”

   Stiles snorts. “A woman like that is at the _epitome_ of first class. I highly doubt she’d want my grimy looks in her stateroom.”

   “She’s not so stuck up that she can’t appreciate good art. Usually I don’t pay attention to it all, so I know for a fact that she would like your artistry very much.” He takes the book back. “I’ll prove it to you.”

   Stiles frowns. “How?”

   “I’ll show her these and ask if she’d like one as well, for an early wedding present. I’ve already got something in mine, but I’ll just give it to her later.”

   Stiles grins. “Under one condition.”

   “And what is that?”

   “You tell me about her. The ocean is a world of secrets, wolfhound. You may as well reveal them here. I’ll throw them right back over, I promise.”

   Derek blinks at him before sighing and looking away. “Jennifer Blake—”

   “My god, she’s a Blake? Arranged or not, you’re lucky.”

   Derek narrows his eyes at him.

   Stiles holds his hands up in defeat. “Sorry.”

   Derek continues: “Jennifer is, as you say, the epitome of the first class. She loves the color lavender, but the colors she likes to decorate her rooms in are gold and red. The real wedding present I have for her are both such colors. She loves the water, which is why we’re traveling by the Titanic instead of the private ships that she has. She’s not so difficult that she has to have every detail in her way, but she would prefer it.” He sighs again. “She’s in love with me and I don’t know what to do about it.”

   Stiles turns towards him more, eyes quizzical. “Why are you marrying her, then? Is it arranged or not?”

   “It’s…somewhat arranged. I’m the one that asked her to marry me in the first place, though now I wish I hadn’t. My sister, Laura, and I are the only two that are left, and…” Derek probably shouldn’t spout off how poor he actually is as of late. “And Laura believes that the match is a perfect one.”

   Stiles snorts. “Who cares what your sister thinks? You shouldn’t marry someone just because ‘it’s a good match’ and for the money. What do you think she’s going to say when she finds out that you _don’t_ love her?”

   “I believe that I’ll love her in time, so if she does, I’m hoping it’s longer after I’ve started to, and that way she’ll never know at all.”

   “Whoa there, don’t confuse me. Have you ever been in love before?”

   Derek averts his eyes. “I hardly believe that such a question is appropriate for—”

   “It’s just a question, wolfhound. Answering it won’t get you kicked out of your proper upbringings of the wealthy.”

   Derek blinks at him a little bit. “No,” he says. “I’ve never been in love before.”

   “Well, that makes two of us,” Stiles says, grinning. “Eighteen years and I’ve never once been in love.”

   Derek frowns at him. “You’ve been to New York _and_  Paris in only four years?”

   “I’ve been to a hell of a lot more places than that in four years, my friend.”

   Derek swallows tightly. He’s not quite sure if _friend_ is a term he’d yet use, but he won’t dispute it. “Maybe not as many places as I in my twenty-one years, but we’ll see. Actually…” He manages a smile. Small, but it’s real, so it’s big enough for him. “I wanted to thank you for…saving me. You said you don’t want my money, so maybe dinner tonight would be suitable?”

   Stiles’ eyes widen. “You’re inviting me to dinner?”

   He nods. “I feel _that_ is at least appropriate. We can’t tell them the truth, of course, but it will be under the pretense of your art.” He taps the portfolio. “We’ll get you all dressed up and they won’t even know you’re from steerage.”

   Stiles snorts. “I’ve never been dressed up in my life.”

   Derek actually grins, thinking to Laura’s new “friend”, Erica Reyes. “I know just the person for you to confide in.”

**OoOoOoO**

_STILES…_

   Stiles likes Erica. Actually, he’s pretty sure he’d be in love with her if she weren’t so many years older than him.

   “You look _gorgeous_ ,” she says, dusting at his shoulders. “I’m so glad I kept my husband’s suit for whenever we have sons.” She steps away from his back and over in front of him, just beside where Derek is standing at the fireplace. He doesn’t seem too interested in the whole thing, but at least Stiles got to see him smile a couple of times earlier today. The guy definitely needs it.

   Erica smiles up at Derek. “Did I do well?”

   He nods, both hands behind his back, as usual. “Perfect.”

   “He’ll be new money just like me!” She reaches forward and pats both of his cheeks. “Come along now, you two. We don’t want to be late.”

   Stiles quick grabs up his portfolio, all of the drawings of any clothe-less models tucked safely into the back pocket where nobody will look. The walk feels like a long one, Derek escorting Erica and Stiles left to do with his hand what he can. He’s got the portfolio tucked under one arm and the other tucked behind his back, fisted there like he sees all of the other men doing.

   “ _There_ you are,” a voice says brightly, though Stiles can hear the strain in it, and he looks over to see Derek’s fiancé. “You’re always disappearing on this ship, darling.” She looks to Erica. “Hello, dear.” She leans in to kiss her cheek lightly. “Lovely to see you again.” That’s when her eyes land on Stiles. “Oh, Derek, darling. Who is this?”

   “This is Mr. Lucius Stilinski,” Derek says with a smile, but Stiles has seen his smiles, and this one is so fake that it makes him want to cringe at it. “He’s an artist that Erica introduced me to. I decided that I would bring him along to give you a chance to look over some of it.” He gives a dazzling smile that Stiles would swoon over if he didn’t know how many lies were in it. “I know how much you love artwork, my dear.”

   She gives him an equally dazzling smile. “I love how much you think of me, darling.” She looks to Stiles again. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mr. Stilinski. I’m Jennifer Blake, Derek’s fiancé.”

   Stiles decides that he can pack in just as much bullshit as Derek can, so he takes her gloved hand and kisses it lightly. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Blake.”

   He can see the way that Erica is trying to hide her laughter, but Derek actually looks impressed.

   Two more women come over at that, both with long black hair. One has hers up in a tight bun and looks a little frightening, but the other has hers piled intricately atop her head in curls.

   “There you two are,” the woman with the curls says. “We were beginning to worry about you. Who’s your friend?”

   Derek gives another fake smile. “This is Lucius Stilinski. He’s her for Erica and Jennifer’s sake.” He looks at Stiles. “This is Laura, my older sister, and Jennifer’s dearest friend Kali.”

   “She does all my _dirty_ work,” Jennifer says with an adorable smile as she pats Kali lightly on the shoulder. “We’ve known each other since we were children.”

   Kali doesn’t smile. “And a wonderful childhood it was, madam. Shall we be off?”

   Stiles gets to escort Erica now that Derek has Jennifer, and as they all sit around a large table, Stiles finds himself sitting beside Erica and a woman he doesn’t know, with Kali on Erica’s other side, followed by Jennifer and _then_ Derek.

   The night seems to go by rather quickly at that point, Stiles being introduced as “Lucius” to everyone else at the table as well. The captain of the ship, Vernon Boyd, was unable to make it to the dinner, but he does get to meet the man who named the Titanic (Gerard Argent) and also the one who designed the entire ship itself (Christopher Argent, his son).

   After they’ve ordered their meals, Stiles finds that Jennifer is now requesting to see his artwork. He gives his portfolio over with a bright smile, happy to share it with anyone who will let him. He’s used to hearing praise for his work (nearly fifteen years of practicing his artwork and he _better_ be used to it), but it always feels better than the last one—especially all of these fine people.

   “You’ll _have_ to do one of Derek and I,” Jennifer says as the food is arriving and Stiles is getting his portfolio back. She smiles over at her fiancé, who Stiles has definitely noticed looks as miserable as usual. He hides it rather well when people are looking, but apparently Stiles doesn’t count as a person. “It will be my wedding present to you.”

   Derek gives her another of his fake smiles. “It’s a good thing you know that I _don’t_ like surprises.”

   She gives a dainty laugh, leaning back so the waiter can set her food down. “Of course, darling. I know you better than anybody.”

   Even at that, Derek can’t hide the broken look that flashes across his face. It’s only for a split second and goes unnoticed by everybody else, but Stiles notices it. Derek knows that Stiles notices it, too, but he ignores it before digging into his food.

**OoOoOoO**

_DEREK…_

   Derek stares without seeing at the deck in front of him, walking with his hands shoved into his pockets. He has no idea where his hat and suit coat went after cigars and brandies, but he wishes he did since it’s so cold out here. He’s almost to the front of the boat again… After dinner, Stiles declined accompanying the men for the cigars and brandies, and Derek was only there for a few minutes before telling everyone that Jennifer requested he come to her room that night. He never made it that far, though.

   He sighs, sitting down on a bench before he gets too close to the back of the boat again. He feels bad for Jennifer, really. She loves him, but he…doesn’t love her. Or anybody else. He’s not sure if he even has the capacity for it. Then again, he’s barely into his twenties… As far as he knows he’s just not old enough to love.

   “ _There_ you are.”

   Derek frowns. That’s not Jennifer’s voice.

   The body of Stiles drops down beside him, puffing smoke into Derek’s face. “Figured you’d be out here after such a disastrous dinner.” He holds his smoke over to Derek. “None of these cigars anymore, rich boy; live a little.”

   Derek takes it tentatively, sucking in.

   Stiles grins, taking it back. “Atta boy.” He pulls in deep before flicking the whole thing over the nearby rails.

   Derek licks his lips. He hasn’t said anything in a few hours. “I don’t have any friends on this ship.”

   “I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t have any friends at all.” He throws his arms over the back of the bench. “You know what you need?”

   Derek arches an eyebrow. “A friend?”

   The man grins. “ _Lots_ of friends.” He swings his arms back down and stands. “Come on.”

   Derek frowns. “Excuse me?”

   “Come _on_!” he says again, holding his hand out. “If you can’t make your own friends then I may as well make ‘em for you.”

   Derek frowns deeper. “I hardly think it appropriate. I can’t go gallivanting off when my fiancé is…is expecting me.”

   “You don’t even _like_ her, Derek,” he says, leaning down and just _taking_ his hand.

   “How dare you,” Derek spits, pulling his hand away as he stands and takes a few steps away. “After I invite you to dinner, even? Do not touch me unless I—”

   “You sure are a spoiled brat, wolfhound.”

   Derek narrows his eyes slightly. “I’m beginning to wish that my fiancé came looking for me before you did, Mr. Stilinski.”

   He snorts. “And you think _I’m_ rude.” He holds his hand out again. “Come on.”

   Derek stares at the hand.

   “I promise you’ll have fun, Derek. Scott and Isaac will be there again, along with everybody else that knows how to live. That dinner was nice, but it wasn’t no party. You think that changing your clothes for every meal and talking about money is a good time?” He grins. “Take my hand and I’ll show you some _real_ fun.”

   Derek is going to regret the entire thing very much, but he takes Stiles’ outstretched hand anyway. He’s never been to a third class party before…

   “Atta boy,” Stiles says, tugging Derek after him. “It’s late enough that everybody else is either drinking brandies or off in their rooms.”

   He pulls Derek along far faster than he would have liked, but he doesn’t protest. As they get lower on the ship, Derek begins to hear the sounds of cheers, dancing, and music unlike anything he’s ever listened to before.

   When they finally stop, Stiles has pulled him into a room so crowded that Derek can barely even breathe.

   “This way!” Stiles says, pulling him in some more. “I can see Isaac from here!”

   When they reach the curly haired man, he doesn’t notice Derek or Stiles for the fact that he’s currently locked into a grueling looking arm wrestle. Scott is there too, though, and he gives a wide-eyed look.

   “Wow!” he says over the music. “Never thought I’d see you again!”

   Derek manages a small smile, which is, as usual, big enough for him. “Stiles bribed me with real fun.”

   “And there’s a lot more wooing where that came from!” Stiles says with a laugh, leaning over Isaac and the other man two grab up two glasses of beer. “Do you drink anything besides champagne?”

   Derek rolls his eyes a little, taking one of the glasses. “I drink anything that I can get a hold of.” He ignores the way that both Stiles and Scott are watching as he downs more than half the glass in one go.

   “Damn,” Scott says. “I thought _I_ liked cheap beer.”

   Derek smirks a little, finishing off the rest. “Are you going to drink yours or what?”

   Stiles laughs before knocking back half of his. Isaac wins his arm wrestle at that, throwing his arms up into the air in triumph.

   Scott huffs, handing Derek the rest of his own beer. “You owe me for this, Isaac.”

   Isaac snorts. “This _is_ you owing me!” he says, jumping up and grabbing both of Scott’s hands.

   Derek watches them as he finishes that beer off as well, noticing the way that nobody else cares that they shove in with everybody else to start dancing. He’s never seen two men dance together before; as fun and crazy as it is, it’s just not something that his people tend to do.

   Stiles grins at him, his own beer glass empty as well. “I’ve got an idea.”

   Derek frowns as he takes the glasses and sets them down. “I don’t think I like the look you’re wearing, Stiles.”

   Stiles grins. “I don’t like it either.” He takes one of his hands. “Dance with me.”

   Derek scoffs, pulling his hand away. “I don’t think so.”

   “Oh, come on! I’ll be fun!” He takes his hand again. “I bet you’ve never had a fun dance in your entire life.”

   “I don’t know any of these steps!” Derek protests, trying to pull away his hand again. Stiles holds firm.

   “I don’t either!” Stiles says, tugging Derek into the bodies. “Just pretend it’s a really crazy waltz!”

   The next thing Derek knows is that he’s dancing with a man whose name he can barely even pronounce, pretending he can do what everyone else is doing. By the time that Stiles tugs Derek up onto a little stand in the middle of the room after Scott and Isaac, Derek doesn’t even care anymore. He’s smiling, and not a small one. He can barely even breathe he’s smiling so big. He can’t even remember smiling this large  _ever_. He literally cannot even remember.

   There’s tap-dancing and singing and he swears they’ve got some miniature drums made out of spoons. Women are holding their heels and children are being held on their father’s backs and tables are being knocked over by men who have drunk a bit more than they probably should have.

   And all the way, Derek is smiling—and at one point, he even swears that he laughs.

   Whoever this man with the crazy name and artistic talent is, Derek never wants to let him go. Derek never wants to let his friend go.

**OoOoOoO**

_STILES…_

   Stiles wakes up the next morning with everything from the night before pouring into his mind all at once. The way that Derek drank and dance and smiled and…

   Stiles swings out of bed fast, making sure he doesn’t wake up Scott above him and the other two roommates he doesn’t know the names of. He gets dressed quickly and grabs his portfolio before making his way out of the room, breath coming heavy.

   Derek laughed yesterday. Stiles has only known him for a few days, but he’d bet his life that the man hasn’t smiled in a godforsaken long time. Stiles never wants to let that laugh go. He wants to hold it tight and make it come out again and again…

   Stiles stumbles out onto the deck, pulling in a breath of fresh air at the way that his head is going a little dizzy. The sun is high in the sky now, which means Stiles has been asleep for a rather long time. He hasn’t a clue where Derek could be. He doesn’t have a _clue_. Somewhere on the first deck, but besides that…

   He sighs, leaning against the rails. Maybe if he just—

   He grins bright. There he is, up on the same deck he was yesterday, back when Stiles got to introduce him to Scott and Isaac. He’s with Jennifer again, leaning there and staring out over the horizon. Just as last time she doesn’t stay long, holding one of his arms and kissing his cheek before flitting off. Stiles doesn’t know how she can just believe everything he throws at her, really… If she can’t see how much he’s pretending now, how is he ever going to survive with it?

   Stiles walks below him again. “Hey there, wolfhound.”

   Derek looks down at him, giving him a sad look. “Hello.”

   Stiles frowns. “You okay?”

   “In all this time, Stiles, have I ever been okay?”

   Stiles gives an equally sad look. “That fun ole party didn’t help even a little bit?"

   One corner of Derek’s mouth curves, but it still looks sad. “Thank you for that.”

   Stiles grins. “I knew it did. What are you going to do right now?”

   He shrugs. “The same as I planned on yesterday. A nap.”

   “What are first class rooms like, anyway? As beautiful as everywhere else?”

   Derek’s face suddenly becomes less sad. “Would you like to see?”

   Stiles grins brightly. “Would I ever! Hang on, don’t move.” He starts to climb, just like he did on the first day of sail.

   “Stiles!” Derek hisses. “Stiles, you can’t do that!”

   Stiles swings over, landing beside him. “Too late.”

   Derek snorts. “You are so annoying!”

   Stiles grins. “Aren’t I? Hurry up, now. I want to see your room.”

   Derek leads him slowly, careful not to draw attention to them. The walk there is short, thank god.

   “Wow,” Stiles says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You really meant it with Jennifer’s art thing.” He bends down in front of a painting with many faces. “It’s like a dream.” He stands, grinning some more. “It matches the ship of dreams, eh?”

   Derek snorts, sitting down onto the couch in the sitting room there. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

   “Nonsense,” Stiles says, dropping to sit beside him. “I am the epitome of hilarious.” He chuckles. “Maybe _I_ should marry Jennifer.”

   Derek scoffs. “She wouldn’t even give you a second glance.”

   Stiles heart suddenly decides to skip a beat, deciding what he’s going to think before he even thinks about it. “Would you?”

   Derek gives him a taken aback look. “I beg your pardon?”

   Stiles covers his words up with a cough. “Would it be weird if I did a portrait of just you?” he asks.

   Derek raises an eyebrow. “What for?”

   Stiles shrugs. “I like your…” _Everything_. “Eyes.”

   Derek snorts. “You could, I suppose. It’s not likely we’ll have company here. Everyone is out on a walk.”

   Stiles grins, jumping up to get to where he set down his portfolio. “Here,” he says, handing it to Derek after he’s pulled out his drawing utensils and sharpeners. “If you can’t think of any poses then just pick one out of here.” He moves away, sitting over on a smaller chair to do his sharpening.

   Derek comes over a few moments later, holding open the portfolio. “I think I like this one.”

   Stiles glances up at it. “Yeah, okay, just sit over there on the…” He trials off, looking back up. Derek is holding the folder open to a drawing of Heather where she’s spread out across her couch (the only piece of furniture she ever owned) in nothing at all, her arms up at her head with her hands laced into a crown.

   Stiles swallows tight. “Excuse me?” he squeaks.

   Derek closes the pages and sets them down in Stiles’ lap. “You said yourself that I’m sick of being spoiled, rich, and called a boy. I’m sick of being proper as well.” He bends down, looking Stiles straight in the eyes. “You’re already going to do Jennifer and I in full dress. This one will make up for that.”

   Stiles blinks a bit. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Do you want to, um…anything? Nothing?”

   Derek stands up, eyes thoughtful. “There is one thing… Nobody has ever worn it before.”

   Stiles raises an eyebrow. “What is it?”

   “I’ll show you.” Derek flits off to another room.

   While he’s gone, Stiles pulls in a very deep breath and tries not to scream. He’s sketched multiple people in nothing at all before, but this is different. Derek is…wealthy and proper and _engaged_.

   “Here it is,” the man says, coming back into the room with a small case. “This is my wedding gift for Jennifer, but she hasn’t seen it yet.” He sits down beside Stiles and opens it up, revealing a necklace. Its thick chain is made of gold, and the gem down at the bottom is red and cut into the shape of a heart.

   “Oh _wow_ ,” Stiles says, pulling it carefully out. “This is _beautiful_. Is it a ruby?”

   “A diamond, actually,” Derek says. “It belonged to my mother before her death. I figured the first step to getting rid of Jennifer is to give her something that belonged to a woman who died a long time ago.”

   Stiles looks at him closely, wishing he could read minds. “Why are you marrying her, Derek? You don’t love her—we both know you don’t. Why is it so important to you and Laura that you do?”

   Derek sighs, looking away. “Before it was just the both of us, we had an uncle named Peter. He was secretly racking up debts, and after his death we found them. Now that we’ve paid all of them back and even sold the family company, we don’t have anything left. Laura introduced Jennifer and I on the pretense that her and I could survive. I know that she’s guilt-tripping me, but I know that I can’t help her survive any other way. Jennifer knows that we don’t have any of our money either, but she believes that I really love her.” He looks down at the necklace. “I can’t tell her without risking everything for Laura.”

   A bout of pure rage boils up in Stiles’ entire being. “You listen to me, Derek Hale,” he says, taking the man’s face in his hands to make him look over. “Laura is young and beautiful. She can find her _own_ means of survival. You can do whatever you want. You can give Jennifer this necklace as an _apology_ and walk off of this boat without a glance behind you. You rich people think that living like I do is a horrid way of life, but I _like_ it. Why else wouldn’t I want your money?—or the money you pretend to have, anyway. All you’ve got to do is _want_ to survive and you will.” He smiles, dropping his hands. “And the first step to that is defying your upbringing even more.” He motions to the couch. “Go get ready there while I make myself ready.”

   Derek blinks for a few moments before smiling and nodding. Stiles purposefully doesn’t watch while he undresses right there, lying his clothes carefully onto the floor. When he starts to sit, though, Stiles doesn’t stop himself from looking up. Derek is…very handsome. His arms and the panes of his chest and Stiles can even see the muscles in his legs flex as his weight is pulled off of them from standing. His face may be shaven, and his chest is almost completely bare is well, but nowhere else is. His legs and the frame between his legs is darker than the hair on the top of his head.

   Stiles tries to think of the best position for him as he starts to move himself. “On your side,” he says, motioning. “Put that arm—yeah, yeah, put it back above your head, that was good. And put your other hand—yeah, right there. Do you want to show your, ah…everything?”

   Derek pulls his knees up and just barely hides his cock, but who knows how long that will last. He knows how a man’s body likes to work even when that man doesn’t want it to. “Is that better?” Derek asks.

   Stiles snorts, putting the sharpening knife away. “It’s not going to stay like that.”

   “So confident that your ever-watchful eyes will bring me to my weakest, Mr. Stilinski?”

   Stiles smirks a little. “We’ll see. Don’t move, now—no smiling. I want to capture the face that no one else can interpret.”

   Derek snorts in turn. “ _No one_ else?”

   Stiles flits a wrist. “Laura, maybe. Now shush, I want to finish this.”

   Derek does fall silent at that, pulling in breath after breath of a deep, calming sound. It’s the only way that Stiles manages to keep himself calm as well, though he does have to hide a blush when Derek has to spread his legs the slightest bit.

   “Told you,” he had whispered.

   Derek had rolled his eyes. “Trade me places and we’ll talk.”

   When Stiles is finished, he lets out a puff of air and lowers the paper and pencil. “You sure do have a lot of lines on your chest there, wolfhound.”

   Derek gives one of his little smiles that Stiles knows are just _huge_ to him, grabbing up his undershorts. “Can I see it?”

   “Of course you can,” he says, setting everything but the one drawing to the side.

   Derek comes over in the shorts, looking over his shoulder. “Oh,” he says softly.

   Stiles frowns up at him. “Did I do something wrong?”

   “No, I just…” He trails off, leaning against the back of the chair that Stiles is sitting in.

   “What is it, then?” Stiles asks.

   Derek leans closer to it. “People have always told me that I’m handsome, but I’ve never seen it in this light before. Does my chest _really_ look like that?”

   Stiles laughs, turning back to poke his stomach lightly. “I had no idea you were so modest.”

   Derek shrugs. “It’s a gift,” he says, sarcastic.

   Stiles grins up at him. “I think I like you the most when you’re _not_ sad.”

   Derek flits a wrist, sitting back down on the couch to get the rest of his clothes on. “I’m always sad.”

   Stiles huffs, picking his pencil back up to sign the date on the drawing. “Lucius Stilinski” isn’t his favorite name, but oh well. “I think you need another party, Derek.”

   Derek _hmphs_. “I’d rather just have the beer.”

   Stiles smiles, setting his things aside to push up and sit over beside Derek instead. “I think you should dress down now,” he says. “I’ve dressed up, so now it’s your turn to switch classes.”

   Derek frowns. “I don’t have any clothes to dress down in.”

   Stiles purses his lips. “You probably wouldn’t fit in mine, either.”

   He snorts, shrugging into his crisp white button-up. “I don’t think I’d want to. You haven’t changed or washed those even once.”

   Stiles shrugs. “That’s true.” He starts to stand, but Derek grabs his wrist. Stiles raises an eyebrow at him. “What?”

   Derek purses his lips and let’s go. “Never mind, it’s not important.”

   “Maybe not,” Stiles says, “but I’d still like to hear it.”

   Derek averts his eyes. “I don’t see the point.”

   Stiles smiles, leaning over so that he can look at him. “I just drew you in nothing but a gorgeous diamond the color of blood.” He reaches out to Derek’s neck. “Which you’re still wearing, by the way. I think you can tell me what you’re thinking.”

   Derek looks down, holding the gem up to see it. “I decided it inappropriate to discuss.”

   Stiles scoffs, leaning away. “Fine,” he says, standing. “Keep it to yourself.”

   “I think I want you, Stiles.”

   Stiles spins back around. “Thank _god_.” He drops down beside him, wrapping his arms tight around his neck and pressing their lips together hard. Derek seems to want to go back on the idea for a split second, but then he’s right there with him, wrapping his arms tightly around Stiles’ waist and pulling him even closer. Stiles grips tightly to his neck and weaves his fingers into Derek’s hair to tug lightly, wishing that he could taste every inch of Derek’s skin in a single go. Then again, mapping it out slow may be even better…

   Stiles’ eyes widen a little as Derek suddenly lifts him into the air, wrapping his legs around his waist. Stiles just keeps kissing him when he knows he’s not going to fall (as if arms like that could drop anything anyway), wrapping himself tightly around him so Derek doesn’t have to work so hard. He’s pushed up against a wall at one point, but eventually they’re both dropping onto a bed, crawling until their heads are up at the pillows.

   “You _think_ you want me?” Stiles asks around a grin.

   Derek gives one of his small smiles. “I know it.”

   “Then you better kiss me, wolfhound, before I take my drawings and run.”

   Derek does, soft now. With both of Stiles’ hands lying back on the bed, Derek has one of his hands wrapped around the back of his neck and the other holding him up along with his knees.

   Stiles reaches up to push at the shirt he just put on, still unbuttoned. They get if off easy, letting it toss onto the floor. Stiles wanted to touch him more than anything while he was drawing him, but he knew he had the work to finish before anything else. He didn’t actually know he’d get to do this afterwards, though…

   “I’m going to look so inadequate next to you.” Stiles says against Derek’s mouth, letting his fingers move down through the thin trail of hair disappearing into his shorts.

   Derek pulls away just enough that Stiles can see his smile. “If I could draw like you I would show you otherwise.”

   Derek kisses him before anymore words are exchanged, both hands moving down to his shirt. Stiles already shoved his suspenders down so he could really breathe while working, so it’s easy for Derek to push the shirt up and over his head. He moves to his pants next, pushing those and Stiles’ undershorts down at once. Stiles reaches his own hands down to push Derek’s off as well, getting everything down and onto the floor. One of Derek’s hands moves to grip tightly to one of his hips, and the other goes back to Stiles’ neck. Stiles’ hands both wrap around Derek’s neck, pulling them down tightly together.

   Stiles has only ever done this once, back in New York… He barely even remembers the man’s name. Ethan, he thinks. He had a twin brother that Stiles _knows_ he doesn’t remember the name of, but that’s alright.

   Stiles pulls at the hand that Derek has at his neck and kisses it before letting three of his fingers into his mouth, sucking in to coat them with saliva. Derek watches it carefully; he’s probably never done this before at all, what if the look he was giving Scott and Isaac (back during their dance) gives any indication.

   When Stiles pulls his fingers out, Derek doesn’t need any guiding at all, which Stiles smiles at. He pulls the man down for another kisses just before he pushes one of the fingers in, swallowing the breathy moan that escapes Stiles’ lips.

   “Don’t stop,” Stiles whispers.

   Derek pushes in a second finger. “I’m not going to stop.”

   Stiles wants him more than anything once the third finger has been pushed in, so he just pushes the hand away and kisses him hard once more before pushing Derek up and back so that Stiles can bend down, shove his shorts off, and lather his cock for next. At that, Derek lets out his first moan, one hand dropping into Stiles’ hair.

   Stiles grins as he pulls away, pulling Derek back down on top of him. “I bet Jennifer’s never done _that_ to you before.”

   Derek shakes his head, dragging his nose across Stiles’ jaw. “Not her, not now.” He bends lower and bites lightly at the skin of Stiles’ neck. “I only want you.”

   Stiles smiles, moving both legs to wrap around his waist. “Then take me.”

   Derek pushes in slow at first, but Stiles is pretty sure it’s for his own sake. “God,” he whispers. “To think I could have had you the other days, even.”

   Stiles breathes a laugh, but it doesn’t come out easy. He just wants to moan at the way that Derek is pulling out again, sliding against him. Stiles does moan when he pushes back in, wrapping his arms around Derek’s back and letting his nails drag down.

   Derek’s breath starts to come heavier before noises begin to escape his throat as well, straight into Stiles’ ear. Stiles unwraps one of his legs and drops it down to curl around the back of Derek’s legs, switching the angle and—

   Stars burst out behind Stiles’ eyes, brighter than white fire. He lets his moan drag out long and low, begging Derek without a word to keep going and never stop.

   They do, though, eventually. Derek’s hips stutter to a halt and Stiles lets out Derek’s name in a breath, holding him tight as their breathing begins to calm. When Derek pulls out, they lie there together, holding each other tight and staring into each other’s eyes. Stiles never knew how much he really loved the color of jade…

   “You’re trembling,” Derek whispers.

   Stiles breathes a laugh. “So are you.”

   Derek kisses him soft, his hands reaching up to hold onto both sides of his face. Stiles grips onto his wrists to keep him there, pushing his tongue passed Derek’s lips to drag across the roof of his mouth.

   “Do you want to know something?” Derek whispers.

   Stiles smiles. “Probably.”

   “You’re very beautiful, especially with your eyes closed.”

   Stiles laughs, pushing their noses lightly together. “And you really do have lovely eyes.”

   Derek tilts his head lightly, eyes questioning. “Why _did_ you want to draw me, anyway?”

   “Because I…” He swallows, playing lightly with the necklace still around his neck. “I wanted us to be alone for as long as possible. You’re always stuck pretending, but I know you don’t pretend around me because I’m a stranger. I saved you before you even got over that rail, and I’d do it again—a hundred times over, even.”

   Derek blinks at him before a warm smile spreads across his face. “If it meant meeting you, I’d go right back to how I felt that very night, just for you to take my hand and tell me your ridiculous name again.”

   Stiles laughs, pushing at him. “You are horribly rude for someone so poor.”

   Derek laughs as well. It’s smooth and crisp and clear and _beautiful_. “I grew up rich, so sue me.”

**OoOoOoO**

_DEREK…_

   Derek and Stiles dress slowly, tossing their clothes to each other and kissing between the buttons of Derek’s shirt and as Stiles is pulling his suspenders up. They clean up everything else as well, getting the furniture to where it belongs and tucking his drawings away.

   “Hurry up and get that bloody thing off,” Stiles says, pointing at the necklace still on his neck. Derek forgot it was even there, to be honest. He was a bit too…preoccupied. “You’ll go straight to the bottom if you try and jump again.”

   Derek nods, picking up the case for it, but just before he’s able to actually get it off he snaps his head up to the door from wherein Jennifer and Kali’s voices are coming. He grabs Stiles’ hand and yanks them back towards the bedroom, tossing the bed back together haphazardly as the door to the sitting room opens, and then he takes Stiles’ hand once more to shove them both into the closet on Derek’s side of the room, burying back as far and as quiet as they can.

   “I’m terribly sorry, Miss Jenni,” Kali says as she comes into the bedroom. “I couldn’t find him anywhere.”

   Jennifer sighs, coming in with her. “I don’t even know where he _could_ go off to, Kali. He didn’t even come to my room after I asked; he _always_ comes.”

   “Do you think he’s found another woman, miss?”

   “A woman? No, no, Derek doesn’t like women. It’s a wonder he can put up with me, really.”

   Derek frowns. Where did she come to that conclusion? He notices Stiles is watching him closely, but he doesn’t acknowledge it.

   “I still don’t understand your reasoning for this marriage, Jenni,” Kali says.

   Jennifer gives a long sigh. “I don’t know how, Kali, but he’s made me fall in love with him. You _know_ I didn’t plan on it; all I wanted was to make sure that Laura got into good hands. I know that Derek has never wanted me and that he’s only doing this for her.” She sighs again. “He’s so handsome and regal, Kali. The way he holds himself just right and pretends just so… Nobody has any clue. I’ll let him go as soon as the marriage takes place. That’s why it’s going to be a secret one, you see. People know we _plan_ to marry, but Derek will run away long before he lets it happen. We’ll simply throw him a funeral and I can fall in love with someone who decides to come to it.” She huffs. “Help me dress now, would you? It’s nearly dinnertime and I’m starving.”

   “I’m terribly sorry about him, Jenni. We’ll find someone for you soon, don’t you worry.”

   They drop the topic of Derek after that, giving Derek time to come to grips with all of their words. When they finally leave, Derek throws the closet doors wide, breathing heavy. His eyesight is blackening out the slightest bit, so he reaches his hands out to look for something to hold onto.

   Stiles finds him first, grabbing his face and kissing him hard. Derek’s wants to yell at him that this isn’t the time for a damn kiss, letting his hands claw around a bit, but a few moments later he realizes that he’s starting to see better, and he lets his hands drop. When Stiles pulls away, he’s giving a warm smile that manages to still be sad.

   Derek swallows tightly. “How did you do that?” he asks.

   “You have to hold your breath in a panic attack, and you hold your breath when kissing me.”

   Derek frowns a little. “How do you know that about them?”

   “Let’s just say that I’ve had my fair share of near-death experiences.”

   Derek nods. “Thank you.”

   Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s neck, holding him tight. “It’s okay, wolfhound,” he whispers. “For the best, even. You don’t want her and she’s going to let you go.”

   Derek nods against his neck, arms wrapping around Stiles’ waist. “Right,” he says just before pulling his face away. “You’re right.” He laughs. It’s a choking laugh, though; tired and broken. Why it sounds like that when he suddenly feels so good, he doesn’t know. “I really am free, Stiles!” He kisses him hard. “Thank you for saving me—for everything.”

   Stiles grins. “Don’t thank me now; we’re not in New York yet. When we get there, _then_ you can thank me.”

   Derek smiles. “When we get there, I’m not letting you leave my side.”

   Stiles’ grin widens. “And I’ll teach you to draw as well as I can so I can see myself like you do.”

   Derek nods. “Come on, I’m—”

   The boat suddenly gives a giant lurch, sending both Derek and Stiles falling over onto the bed.

   “What was _that_?” Derek gasps, sitting up.

   “I don’t know!” Stiles says, jumping up as the lurching continues for a few more seconds. “Let’s go see.”

   He bolts out of the bedroom before Derek can barely even move, so he quick gets up and goes after him, running along with those last lurches before it finally stops. Derek ignores any of the looks he’s getting, and it’s not until they’re up on deck that he realizes he’s still wearing the necklace.

   “Holy _wow_ ,” Stiles says, peering over the edge of the boat.

   Derek skids to his side and looks as well, letting his eyes grow wide at the iceberg that they’re currently sailing away from. “Did we hit that?”

   Stiles gives him a half-lidded look. “No, the lurching was a whale.”

   Derek glares a little. “I meant—”

   “I know,” he says, turning around to look over the deck. “Look at all those ice chunks. Do you think we’re gonna be okay? I mean, this _is_ an unsinkable ship.”

   Derek is about to nod, but he frowns instead, looking over to where Captain Boyd is currently giving one of his crewmen a wide-eyed, terrified look. “No,” he says, pointing. “I don’t think we will.”

   Stiles takes his hand. “You’re friends with Mr. Argent, right?”

   Derek looks down at him. “Gerard or Chris?”

   “Not Gerard, he’s a bastard. Chris is nice, and he’s the one that designed the entire ship.”

   Derek nods. “Somewhat. We’ve had our talks before lunches.”

   “He’ll know what’s going on. We’ve got to find him.”

   Derek nods again, holding Stiles’ hand tighter and pulling him towards where Mr. Argent will most likely be. They find him there, in the office where he’s got plans of the ship laid out before him for Captain Boyd, Gerard, and some other of the crewmen’s eyes. Nobody even notices them come in, they’re just intent on listening to Mr. Argent’s words:

   “The pumps buy us time, but minutes only. From this moment, no matter what we do, Titanic will flounder.”

   Boyd lets out a resounding sigh. “How much time?” he asks.

   “An hour…two at most.”

   Boyd turns to a woman. “And how many aboard, Miss Kate?”

   A woman with blonde hair swallows tightly. “There are two-thousand, two-hundred people on this boat, sir.”

   Boyd turns to Gerard. “How do your headlines look now, Gerard?”

   Chris Argent turns to Derek and Stiles at that point, his eyes so dim that he doesn’t even look surprised to see them. “Mr. Hale, Mr. Stilinski…” He steps up to them, ushering them out of the room with sad eyes. He closes the door behind them before looking sternly into Derek’s eyes. “There are not enough boats on his ship for all of the passengers, Derek, and you both are adult men. There is a very slim chance that any male who is not a child will survive at all.” He glances at Stiles before looking back at Derek. “You must do everything you can to get the women in your lives to safety, and maybe, by a small miracle, you will be able to get to that safety as well.” He reaches out to set a hand on one each of their shoulders. “Do you understand me, boys? Please hurry.”

   Derek and Stiles both nod fervently, watching with wide eyes as Mr. Argent simply walks away from them after that. They look at each other, and Derek can practically see already the tears that have yet to form in Stiles’ eyes.

   Derek is about to tell him that they should try and find a boat, but Stiles speaks first:

   “We have to find Jennifer, Laura, and Erica,” he blurts. “We have to make sure that they get the lives they deserve.”

   Derek swallows tightly, and he reaches out to take one of Stiles’ hands. “Promise me something, Stiles.”

   He nods.

   “I don’t want Jennifer or Laura to know about us. I want to make Jennifer believe that I truly do love her, no matter what she thinks that she knows. I want her to leave me knowing that we would have been something great.”

   Stiles reaches both of his hands up to hold Derek’s face. “We are _not_ going to die,” he hisses. “We’re going to survive, and we’re going to grow old together, and we’re—”

   Derek kisses him. “Okay,” he says, pulling away. “We won’t die. But Jennifer needs to think that I did, because I’m not going to break her heart. I want to stay with you, but I don’t want to hurt her. She’s been nothing but perfect to me and I want to leave her with the same idea from me. Please, Stiles.”

   Stiles nods, dropping his hands so he can take one of Derek’s again. “Okay,” he says. “Make her believe that you two would have been something great.”

   Derek nods, tugging at Stiles’ hand. “Come on,” he says. “They’re probably just being told to come up to the decks with their lifebelts.”

   They find them just down at the stairs, no longer holding hands. Laura looks bored, Erica looks annoyed, Kali looks as hard as always, and Jennifer looks...tired. Derek instantly goes up to her, wrapping her into his arms.

   She’s frowning when he pulls away. “What’s wrong?” she asks.

   Derek shakes his head. “We have to get to the boats,” he says quietly, taking her hand. “The ship is sinking.”

   Her eyes widen. “No,” she whispers. “No, that can’t be, this ship is—”

   “It’s made of iron, Miss Blake,” Stiles says, arm linked with Erica’s. “It can sink, and it will. Mr. Argent told us himself.”

   “He also said that there aren’t enough boats for every passenger,” Derek says, linking his arm with Jennifer’s. “We have to get to the deck as quickly as we can.” He holds his other arm out to Laura. “Please, we have to hurry.”

   The six of them move quickly, going up the stairs and passed other waiting passengers. The boats are still being set up, so Derek casts Stiles a glance before letting go of Laura and pulling Jennifer off to the side.

   “What’s happened, Derek?” she whispers, eyes scared. “Why is the ship going to sink?”

   “There was an iceberg,” he whispers. “It hit the side of the ship and drug a hole through the sides. That’s what that giant shudder was. Did you feel it?”

   She nods. “It’s really going to sink?”

   Derek nods. “It is, and…” He pauses, licking his lips. “What I said about there not being enough boats is important because they’ll only take women and children first, and by that time all of them will be all filled up.”

   Jennifer blinks at him for a few moments before her eyes widen. “You mean you can’t—”

   “No,” he says. “I can’t. I’m going to go down with the ship. Stiles and I both will, so we’re planning on sticking together so we won’t…go so lonely.”

   Her eyes begin to well up with tears, and she reaches her hands up to grip onto the front of his clothes. “You can’t go,” she whispers. “You can’t, I love—”

   “I heard what you said, Jennifer,” he says. “Just before dinner and just before the iceberg hit.”

   The tears stop, eyes surprised. “You…what?”

   He nods. “Forgive me, but I overheard my name when you were walking into the room and wanted to know the words. I was hiding in my closet.”

   She looks angry for a moment, then apologetic, and then angry again. “How could I forg—”

   “You’re _wrong_ , Jennifer,” he interrupts. “I _do_ love you. I love you more than life itself. The reason my thoughts have been so preoccupied is because I _am_ worried for Laura’s safety. You know that the money is gone, and without this neither of us would have survived. I’m sorry that I’ve been neglecting you.” He glances at the boats, now set up. “You have to believe me, Jennifer. I never would have run from you, and you never would have had to throw me a fake funeral. Instead it’s…it’s going to be real.”

   Jennifer starts crying then, gripping tighter to Derek’s clothes and resting her forehead against his chest. “I’m sorry!” she sobs. “I love you, and I’m sorry, and I—”

   “It’s okay,” Derek says, wrapping his arms around her to hold her tight, resting his cheek against her forehead. “I love you too, it’s okay.” When he pulls away, he reaches both hands up to wipe the tears on her cheeks away with his thumbs. “I want to give you something.”

   She frowns, confused. “What is there to give me?”

   He reaches up to his neck, unclipping the necklace. He holds it up, smiling warmly. “This was going to be my wedding present to you.”

   She gives a quick, broken sob. “Oh Derek,” she whispers. “It’s beautiful, it’s…” She takes it slowly, looking it over. “Mr. Stilinski never painted us,” she whispers. “I never got to give you my own wedding present.”

   “That’s okay too,” Derek says, motioning for her to turn around so he can put the necklace on.

   But she shakes her head. “I can’t, Derek. I can’t take this from you when I know that I’m never going to see you again.”

   Now it’s Derek who’s frowning. “What?”

   She reaches up around him, putting it back onto his neck. “I love you, Derek, but I know you don’t mean a thing that you’re saying.”

   He frowns deeper. “Why do you—”

   “I was crying because I knew that you were lying.”

   “Jennifer, please, I’m not lying, I—”

   “I see the way that you look at him, Derek. If you can fall in love with someone else in just these few days then they’re the person that you deserve.”

   Derek snorts, throwing a glance at Stiles before looking back at Jennifer. “I don’t love Stiles.”

   She gives a warm, sad smile. “I’ve seen this necklace in old portraits of your mother, Derek. She wouldn’t want you to give this to just anyone… I want you to give this to him instead. I’m going to get onto that lifeboat with Kali, Erica, and your sister, and I’m going to stop being in love with you on my own.” She pushes up and kisses him lightly on the cheek. “I want you to do everything that you can to survive, and if these are going to be your last hours, I want you to be as happy as you can be. I forgive you, Derek.” She smiles, and suddenly there’s nothing sad about it. “Please accept it.”

   Derek finds himself nodding dumbly, and after Jennifer kisses his cheek again, she’s waving him goodbye as she gets helped into the lifeboat there.

   Stiles bounds over to him, eyes hard and confused. “What happened?” he asks. “Why didn’t she take the necklace?”

   Derek swallows tightly, staring at Jennifer as the boat is being lowered away. “She didn’t believe me,” he says quietly. “She told me I should give this to somebody who really means something to me instead.”

   Stiles gives a sad look. “I’m sorry, Derek.”

   Derek looks down at him right as Jennifer disappears below the deck. “I think I’m in love with you, Stiles.”

   Stiles gives a taken aback look before he composes himself with an arched eyebrow. “You _think_ you’re in love with me?"

   Derek kisses him hard, not caring about the others around them. They’re not paying attention to anyone else anyway. He wraps his arms around his waist and Stiles throws his arms around Derek’s neck and—

   Something explodes above them, and they look up to see…

   “Fireworks?” Derek asks.

   “No,” Stiles says, dropping his arms to take one of Derek’s hands. “S.O.S. flares.”

   Derek squeezes his hand. “I want you to have this,” he says, reaching his other hand up to the necklace.

   Stiles smiles, sad and warm and beautiful. “When we dock, you can give it to me and I’ll never take it off.” He tugs him closer. “Until we make it to land, though, I want you to keep that on. Promise me you’ll keep it on?”

   Derek nods. “I promise,” he whispers. “I’ll never let go.”

   Stiles smiles again. "Atta boy." He tugs him along then, looking for any boat that will take men. There’s got to be one, there has t—

   A loud, large creaking noise sounds out, and Derek and Stiles both spin around to watch one of the smoke stacks start to collapse with wide eyes. Derek looks to the people all in the water that’s flooded over there, and with even wider eyes he sees that Scott has just turned around to scream before it collapses on top of him with a splash.

   Stiles swallows tightly. “Goodbye,” he whispers.

   Derek squeezes his hand and tugs him a few more boats down, seeing Isaac there. They squeeze up beside him, and Stiles takes one of his hands.

   “Scott is gone,” he says. “What’s going on?”

   “They’re not letting any of the men on still,” Isaac grits out, glaring at the man holding the gun at everyone. “There aren’t even any women and children _here_ and they’re not even giving us a _cha_ —” Isaac cuts off with an _oomph_ as someone behind him shoves forward, shoving him straight into the open arc where the man letting nobody on is holding his gun.

   The shot rings out like a nightmare, hitting Isaac square in the stomach.

   “You _bastard_!” Derek screams at the man as Stiles drops down to Isaac and tries to stop the blood even though it’s no use.

   The man who shot him drops the gun in shock, scrambling backwards in that same shock and toppling right over into the water.

   Derek watches in horror as one of the passengers jumps over to the gun, jumping up and pointing it at everyone. “Get into the boat!” he yells. “It’s the only way that we’ll survive!”

   “You’re crazy!” Stiles says, standing up as well. “There are still women and children aboard, we have to—”

   “Forget them!” the man shouts, pointing the gun at Stiles. “If they wanted to survive so badly they’d be over here!”

   When he turns away, Derek gives another wide-eyed look when Stiles lunges at the man, wrestling for the gun. When a shot rings out, Derek watches the horror in the man’s eyes as he drops the gun as well, and Stiles stumbles backwards before simply dropping onto the deck. Derek’s eyes are instantly drawn to his neck, blood pouring out of it in a gurgling mess.

   “No!” he screams, dropping down beside him. Everything just stops after that…the sounds and the sights around him and every little thing in the world. “Stiles, no!”

   Stiles can’t speak, but Derek knows that he’s trying to.

   He bends down and kisses him, tears spilling over his cheeks at the taste of blood that’s welling into his mouth. “Stiles, you can’t!” he whispers. “I can’t let go of you, Stiles, I love you! You saved me; I have to save you too, and…” He kisses him again.

   When he pulls away, he expects Stiles to give the faintest of smiles and tell him that everything will be alright.

   But Stiles is already dead.

* * *

   “I didn’t want to live anymore after that,” Derek whispers, still playing with the necklace.

   Cora is sitting on his bed, one hand on her mouth as tears are falling slow and silent down her cheeks.

   “The only reason I did,” he continues softly, “is because a woman who had been trying to get through saw all of it and managed to convince the next man letting people on the boats to let me go on with her, saying that I had just endured the loss of two in only five minutes and that I didn’t deserve to lose myself as well. I…don’t remember much else after that except that I never saw Jennifer, Kali, Erica, or even Laura again after that. I just moved on, starting completely over. I’ve never told anyone the story—not even your grandmother.”

   Cora pulls in a deep, shaking breath. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “I had no idea that you had so many secrets. I just…you’ve always been so cold, and I never knew why. I’m so sorry.”

   Derek smiles warmly at her. “When you have a son,” he says, holding the necklace out, “I want you to give this to him and tell him to give it to the woman that he marries.”

   She hiccups a little, taking it carefully. “I will,” she says, cradling it to her chest. “I promise I will.”

   When Cora leaves after also promising not to tell a soul about the story, Derek folds his hands onto his chest, trying desperately not to cry. He remembers what Stiles said about death never being fun, but sometimes easy when you go old in your bed… Derek finds it appropriate that that’s the way that he finally goes. And the light there, at the end of the tunnel, is a splendorous chandelier at the top of an intricate staircase, and there’s Lucius Stilinski waiting for him, dressed in the suit that he wore to dinner that one night.

   Everybody else is there as well… Mr. Argent, Captain Boyd, Scott, Isaac, and everyone else that was down at that party below the decks. Everybody that died in the wreck of the Ship of Dreams is waiting for him, and they’ve always been waiting for him.

   For the first time that Derek has ever known, death is _fun_.

**_-The End-_ **


End file.
